No Regrets
by rockstarpeach
Summary: Cas is tired of his existence, and a blast from the past gives new life to his life. It might not be the best idea, but he's miserable and lonely and he misses Dean, and he just doesn't care. Tag to 5.04


Title: No Regrets

Pairing: Dean/Cas, (Future!Cas/Past!Dean)

Rating: Adult

Summary: Cas has always loved Dean. It doesn't matter where, and it doesn't matter when. Not to Cas, at least. Doesn't even matter if it's the wrong Dean. Cas is tired of his existence, and a blast from the past gives new life to his life. It might not be the best idea, but he's miserable and lonely and he misses Dean, and he just doesn't care.

Warnings: Spoilers for 5.04 like woah!

***

"What?" he snorts, with mild amusement, rolls his eyes and looks back and forth between the two. "I like past you." He gets a sharp, cold look of warning from his leader, and a slight flushing of cheeks and the brief lowering of eyelids from a much more innocent version.

It's true; he does like past Dean. He likes _his_ Dean too, though he hasn't exactly been _his_ Dean in a while. It's been a couple of years since they were together like that, and while it hadn't exactly ended badly, as far as bad goes in an apocalypse, it had still ended. They'd both changed so much, too much. Dean was harder now, had lost that wonderfully naïve quality, that quiet strength that had drawn him to Dean in the first place, the one that forced him to do what was _right_, forced him to keep them _good_, and _human_, rather than win no matter the cost.

And Cas (yeah, he's even calling _himself_ Cas now) barely recognises himself these days. The change had been gradual. It wasn't like the angels left and all of a sudden _poof_ – he was some strung out slob with a serious grudge. No, at first the changes were slight, but most of his powers were gone and he'd needed to cope somehow, needed some way to ease the panic and the desperation and the anger at suddenly being helpless.

That way had turned out to be Dean. And it had been good, for both of them, for a while. But eventually Dean discovered that there are still plenty of women to sleep with, even during Armageddon, and Cas had discovered his new coping mechanism of absinthe and amphetamines and weekly orgies with beautiful women.

They're both shells of what they once were, and Cas just wants it to go back.

He half listens while Dean goes over the plan, load up the truck, get everyone ready, we've got the Colt, we're killing the Devil. Blah blah. It's reckless, like he says, but of course he'll play along. It doesn't really matter anymore. Not much does.

And then they're all dismissed, and he lets his eyes trail over the old Dean one more time, and his Dean can't possibly miss the interested twinkle that accompanies the look, before he smiles and turns to leave. He's got preparations to make, and then an orgy to get to, before they hunt down Lucifer. Maybe he'll invite past Dean.

"Don't," Dean hisses, grabbing his arm on his way out the door, leaning in close so nobody else can hear. Not that they're listening, or that they'll even care, if they are.

"Don't what?" he asks, stupid, dopey smile on his face, forced and fake. He's playing dumb, they both know it. "Leave him… me… whatever," Dean grunts, frustrated and flustered when Cas starts to laugh. "Leave him the hell alone, okay? You've got your fucking Harem to keep your dick satisfied now."

Cas' face hardens then, eyes narrowed dangerously at Dean, and he yanks his arm free. It had never been just about sex between them. Dean knows that just as much as he does, but he acts like the two of them being together for almost a year was nothing more than convenience. Nothing more than physical release so they could forget about everything else for a while. Cas kind of wants to punch him, but it might ruin his reputation as the camp hippie, so he refrains.

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, while everyone else filters past them and outside. Everyone except the other Dean, and Cas can feel his tension and confusion, knows he's wondering what's going on between them.

"Yeah, I do," Cas answers, turns and leaves without looking back. Yeah, he does. He has that cold physical comfort to get lost in, but it's got nothing to do with any kind of 'spiritual connection', or 'shared perception' like that shit he spouts off to those girls. It's empty, and it's meaningless, and it's nothing like he shared with Dean.

His life is nothing but a haze of violence and sex and mood enhancers, and it's gotten to the point where he doesn't even know what he's fighting for anymore. He's never been more miserable. Dean knows this, can see it every time Cas pretends to smile, every time he pops a pill and slips inside some nameless girl while Dean glances in through the window, and Dean never says anything. Never says sorry for slipping away from him, or blows up at him for what he's become. Never looks at him anymore like he wants back what they had.

The fact that Dean's miserable too, the fact he _does_ want Cas, just as badly, is of little comfort. Because Dean doesn't want this Cas, he wants what Cas _used_ to be, and Cas… Cas does too.

***

It's dark out, the trucks are loaded up and everyone is ready. There are still hours left until they head out, and Cas has four girls waiting for him to knock on their doors, but he's just not in the mood. Not for them, anyway. There aren't many people outside right now. Most are asleep, even the small group that's riding out on their mission in a few hours, resting up before the showdown.

There are a few guards making the usual rounds, there's a teenage girl carrying a bucket across the courtyard to the river that runs along the row of trees protecting their cabins from view of the road, and there's Dean.

It's the younger Dean, and he's just sitting on the steps outside of _his_ Dean's cabin, and he looks so tired, so afraid in that way that Dean always used to when he was pretending he wasn't. He's picking up small pebbles off the ground, playing with them in his hand for a little while, and then throwing them, slight, absent flicks of his wrist and they go flying, disappearing into the night air and landing with inaudible thuds on the grass.

His breath hitches in and his hand clenches tight around the pebble he's got in his hand – the seventh one he's picked up, and Cas knows that, because he's been watching him since he came outside, half an hour ago – and tilts his head back. He swallows, and opens his eyes, licks his cracked lips.

If Cas didn't know better, watching Dean watch the sky, angry and hopeful and pleading, he'd swear that Dean is praying. Then again, this Dean just might be. He's seen this future, heard about his brother and he's already desperate to make sure it doesn't come true.

Cas remembers back to this Dean's time, when Cas had thought his father was alive, was searching for him, with Dean's help, and he thinks a part of Dean might have believed him when he'd told him that God was out there. Maybe Dean thinks he still is.

Right there, Castiel falls in love just a little bit. Maybe again, maybe for the first time, he's not really sure. Hell, maybe it isn't even love at all, and it's just that whatever he'd rolled up with that tobacco he'd scrounged on their last supply run is kicking in, but he doesn't really care.

He just knows that he wants, and he's planning on taking. But only if Dean will have him. He walks down from his own porch, keeping as quiet as he can, and purposefully avoiding the places in the rotting wood that creak the loudest, and crosses over to Dean's cabin. It isn't far from his own, maybe twenty feet or so, and when he gets there he doesn't say anything, just stands next to Dean (young Dean, past Dean, Dean who still trusts, cares about his friends, believes good can conquer evil, and that they will win by fighting fair or not win at all), and stares up at the sky with him.

Dean notices his presence, but also offers no words, just a quick dart of his eyes, and then his face is looking straight up again, and it's longer than either of them realise, stuck in an oddly comfortable, if depressing, silence, before Cas breaks it.

"I think I'll turn in," he says, and Dean looks over at him.

"Yeah. We've still got some time, and we should probably be as rested as we can…" Dean starts, and Cas smiles and shakes his head, looks down at Dean finally.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," he tells him, and his smile broadens when Dean's brows draw together, and he tries to make sense of the words. Cas had forgotten for a moment that this is not _his_ Dean. This Dean hasn't heard Castiel utter that phrase to him on countless late nights, hasn't spoken those same words to Cas when he was the one in need.

Dean's face snaps then, in seeming understanding, and he cracks a smile of his own, half amused and maybe a little disappointed. "Right. Your girls must be waiting for you."

Cas knows that Dean is judging him, that he's wondering what happened to him, and Cas wishes he had an answer. Instead, he lets it go, and makes Dean an offer. "They are," he tells him. "But they're not what I want. Not tonight."

Dean's eyes widen slightly when Cas puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a meaningful squeeze. "I…" he says, and flounders, and Cas is reminded again (not that he needs the reminder, ever) why it was he got involved with Dean in the first place.

"I'll be inside," he says, before he leaves. "I'd like it if you joined me."

***

A full ten minutes pass before the door opens, and Dean comes in.

A full ten minutes for him to wonder what the hell he thinks he's doing. Being around this version of Dean brings him back, forces a calmness into him that he rarely feels these days, and he craves it, worse than his pills. He thinks for a moment that he'd like to blame Dean for his lifestyle, because if things had worked out between them, maybe he wouldn't need to live like this, but he can't.

It's the fault of circumstance, and bad choices on both parts, and this is just this life. He can deal with that, most of the time, even if he isn't happy, but seeing Dean again like this is forcing him to realise just how much he misses it.

He's had a full ten minutes to almost talk himself out of it, because this Dean is so adorably innocent, and Cas doesn't want to send him back to his own time with those kinds of memories to deal with. Doesn't want Dean to have to live with knowing what will happen between them and how miserable it will make them both.

But then Dean is walking through the door, a few nervous steps as he tugs on the hem of his jacket, clears his throat. He shuffles for a moment before he closes the door behind him, cocks an eyebrow at him, that classic gesture of amused challenge or disbelief, a front, but Cas hasn't seen it on Dean in a while, he doesn't care about anything else now.

Hell, Dean had guessed at the relationship his future self had had with Cas when Cas came on to him outside, and could probably, just by looking at the way the two of them could barely look each other in the eye, that they weren't together anymore. And it's not like knowing about that is going to be any worse for him than carrying around the knowledge of everything else that will happen to him, to all of them.

"Dean," he starts, standing up and moving forward, and Dean cuts him off with a raised hand. He stops moving immediately and nods his head, stays quiet and waits for Dean to speak.

"So, you're tellin' me that you and me… I mean, you and him… or… us… whatever!" Cas grins at him, but ducks his head to cover it. He doesn't understand why this situation flusters them like it does. "That we're… bed buddies?" Dean questions, his voice gruff and disbelieving.

"No," Castiel answers, and sighs, because he doesn't want to have this conversation, but it looks as if Dean is not just going to fall into bed with him like he wants. "We were lovers, Dean. But it… ended."

"What?" Dean asks, but he doesn't sound as scandalised as Castiel had thought he would. "Why?"

"People have needs, Dean," Cas answers, dismissively. He really doesn't want to talk about this. "We were around each other more than anybody else, and… it made sense." That's not the whole answer, not even half of it, but it's as much as this Dean needs to know.

When he'd first started with _his_ Dean, it had been an incredibly slow build, on the run and fighting back for a year and half before they'd shared even a fleeting kiss, and then Dean had spent the next two straight months in bed with every girl he could find, he'd been so freaked out. It hadn't been until six months later that they'd finally become lovers.

"No, I mean," Dean says, and shifts again, awkward and unsteady. "Why did it end?"

Cas wonders that himself for a moment, looking into Dean's eyes, and Dean looks uncertain and afraid, like he needs for Castiel to tell him that it wasn't his fault. That he hadn't screwed up yet another thing in his long list of mistakes, and that he hadn't turned Cas into the pathetic excuse for a powerless ex-angel that he currently was. Not that Dean knew yet that he was mostly human now. He wasn't sure exactly how or when to break that news.

Cas can't really give him the confirmation he needs, because while he doesn't exactly want to start up a sharing circle, he _can't_ lie. He sighs, steps closer again, and Dean doesn't indicate he should stop. "We aren't those people any more." He says simply.

"What happened to us?" Dean asks, voice shaking slightly, but still rough, and this time when Castiel steps forward, so does Dean. He doesn't mean them as a couple, not entirely, not even mostly. Cas knows that. He means what happened to them as _people_? What happened to _everyone_? Where the hell was he when Sam went completely and irreversibly dark side? Where the hell were they _both_?

Cas shifts his hand forward, the slight movement catching Dean's eye, and he looks down just in time to see Castiel grab his hand, thread their fingers together. Dean's still looking down at their joined hands when Cas gives a gentle tug, pulling Dean even closer. "We don't have all night," he offers, going for playful. "If you want to fuck, we should really get started."

Dean baulks at that, takes a step back, but doesn't let go of Castiel's hand.

"If you don't want to," Cas shrugs, and tries his very hardest to act like that doesn't bother him as much as it does. "I've got a deck of cards." He tilts his head in the direction of a desk along one wall.

"Why?" Dean asks again, and Cas thinks that might be all Dean is capable of tonight. Asking questions that Cas can't or won't answer.

"I've come to enjoy poker," Cas tells him, straight-faced, like he would have said it years ago, and that gets a genuine smile out of Dean.

"No, dumbass," Dean scolds around the grin, and tries to scowl. "I meant… why me? You could have _him_, right? He's _your_ Dean? Why would you want me?"

"He's not mine," Cas says, humour wiped from his face. It hurts more than he wants it to, admitting that out loud.

He's really amazed at how well Dean is taking this, but then again, even back when this Dean comes from, the two of them had been dancing around each other for quite a while. They hadn't even come close to acting on anything, but the feelings were definitely there, and maybe past Dean has less to prove than _his_ Dean does. Maybe the idea of them together is easier to accept. And yes, despite his words to Dean just now, the Dean that belongs in this time _is_ his Dean. Cas just can't imagine him any other way, even if they hardly talk anymore.

Maybe Dean had wanted to be with him for longer than he'd known. It wouldn't surprise him, given how absurdly obtuse he'd been as an angel.

He could say more to Dean, tell him about how it's _him_ that he wants. Tell him that when he looks at _his_ Dean, he longs to see more of his past self, but he doesn't have to. Dean already knows that. Already looks at the future version of himself and knows he doesn't want to become that.

And Dean could ask more, about how life works during the apocolypse, or what mistake he's going to make that will lead them here, or what had happened with him and Cas and how it had gone so wrong. But Dean probably doesn't need to do that either.

Instead Dean lunges forward, clenches his hand tight, and crushes his mouth against Castiel's. It's clumsy and awful, lips missing their intended target and teeth clashing together awkwardly, and it's one of the best things Cas has felt in a damn long time.

He knows it's not Dean's first time kissing a man. He'd done that twice before, and he'd told Cas some of his deepest secrets under the privacy of darkness and quiet, while they huddled together in one of the abandon apartments in a three story walk-up in Pittsburgh. Dean and Cas hadn't had sex yet then, but they both knew it was heading in that direction sooner or later, and Dean had been feeling oddly confessional.

So really, Castiel should have been expecting better than this lumbering attempt at seeking forgiveness for wrongs Dean hasn't even committed yet, but Cas doesn't have the scruples he once did, and at the moment, he'll take what he can get.

He drops Dean's hand immediately, arms wrapping around the man's larger frame, and their chests are pressed together, tight. They break apart moments later, panting, and Cas licks his lips, tilts his head up to watch Dean's face for any signs he doesn't want this. Cas doesn't know anymore if it will make a difference, but he'd still like to know.

"Seriously?" Dean asks with a grin. "You and I really….," he ducks his head and blushes. Even on the verge of doing it, he can't quite bring himself to say it. Yes, Castiel is definitely in love. Dean looks up again. "Or is that just like, the world's most inventive pick-up line?"

Cas throws his head back and laughs, loudly and honestly for the first time in what seems like forever. Dean's smile and sense of humour are contagious, flood him with warmth and feel like home.

"Does it matter?" he answers, eyes twinkling with mischief, and Dean's smile freezes for a second, his whole body freezes, and Cas thinks he might have just said the wrong thing. But when he takes a step back, Dean goes with him, and then they take another, and pretty soon they're lying on the bed, hands all over each other and clothing being slipped over heads and down long legs.

Cas is careful. Very, very careful, and almost excruciatingly slow. He doesn't really want it like this. Hell, he's desperate for something more aggressive, more real. He wants to feel Dean's hands and lips and teeth, hard on his body, and he wants to take Dean, lay him out and push inside him like his life depends on it. Make Dean cry and beg and know that this is where he belongs.

But he knows this is this Dean's first time, and he can't stand the thought of hurting him like that. _His_ Dean… that was a different story. He'd fuck into that tight little ass of his until he bled, and then he'd fuck him harder. If he ever got the chance again.

They're both naked now, and Cas is leaning over Dean, three fingers deep inside him and moving them slowly, so fucking slowly, and Cas thinks he might go crazy, but he needs to make sure Dean is ready.

"Dude," Dean breathes out, aroused and amused, hard cock twitching between his legs and leaking a sticky white mess onto his abdomen. "I'm not made of glass you know. Come on. Show me what you got."

Cas rolls his eyes, because that's his Dean. Well, not _his_ Dean, but… Yes, alright maybe it is kind of confusing, there being two of him and all. But it's just like the Dean he used to know, posturing even now. He pulls his fingers out and positions himself on top of Dean, grabs his own achingly hard cock and places the tip against Dean's twitching hole, wonders what it will feel like to fill Dean's virgin hole for the second time… and then stops.

Hmm. If he's sleeping with Dean now, the younger Dean, and then this Dean goes back, and develops his natural relationship with Castiel, does that mean the Dean that Cas slept with back then, has already been taken? By him? Only not him, but a future version?

"Dude, you're gonna give yourself a headache," Dean says. "Stop thinking so hard and let's fuck already."

Cas looks down at him, remembers the first time he took Dean, remembers the first time Dean took him, hopes he's not replacing those memories with this in Dean's mind, and realises that it doesn't really matter. Dean's usually right, and this time is no exception.

Cas is going to die in a few hours. He knows that. Dean might think he's pretty convincing, and maybe he is, to everyone else, but Cas knows him. He knows that none of them is coming back from this, except maybe the man underneath him right now, and if this really is his last night on Earth, he's going out with a bang. Literally.

He pushes inside, and Dean tenses up, his channel spasming around him erratically as Dean fights for control, tries not to thrash and cry out from the sharp pain. Cas doesn't let up though, just holds Dean down and fucks into him like Dean asked for, and it's really not long before Dean is relaxing into him, and his grunts and groans are starting to sound like they're pleasure-induced.

It's probably helping that Cas has his hand wrapped around Dean's cock, stroking it up and down leisurely, fingers sliding over the slippery head and spreading the small amount of fluid around the shaft to make the motions easier. His mouth is also fused to Dean's neck, and he's mumbling. He's not even really sure what, because he's _inside Dean,_ and therefore past the point of coherence, but he's pretty sure he's spouting some shit about how amazing it feels, and how much he's missed this, and he wants to bite his own fucking tongue off when he's pretty damn sure he hears the word 'love' slip from his lips.

He growls to make up for it, pushes in even harder, and bares his teeth when Dean cries out.

"Fuck!" he screams, and his hands tense on Castiel's back, fingernails digging in sharply to the soft flesh. "Jesus, Cas!"

"Sorry," Cas laughs, but he isn't. He keeps thrusting, just as hard, and he adjusts his grip on Dean's cock accordingly. Dean grunts once more, and then he flops back down on the bed. His hands go lax on Cas for a minute, maybe five, but his hips are working, and he's panting out harsh breaths.

There's a mark so red on Dean's neck that it will show up even in the dark, when they leave the cabin to join the others, and Cas is _glad_. "Please," Cas begs, when he gets closer, and hips are moving without any kind of rhythm at all. "Please. Don't let it turn out like this."

And if he means the two of them, instead of the rest of the world, he's not going to say.

Dean's hands are moving then, over his forearms, and his fingers are clenching around Castiel's elbow, hard and insistent, and Dean is making these tiny little sounds, mewls of pleasure, and his hips are canting in just that way… And Cas knows Dean well enough to know that he's going to come. He's seen it, felt it, heard it before. Hundreds of times, even if this is the first one for Dean.

"Let go, Dean," he says, more an order than a suggestion, and he uses his old voice. The one this Dean knows best, the one that's honest, and reverent and personal. "So good. Let go. Love you."

He doesn't have time to worry that he's said it again, because Dean's tilting his head to catch his lips, and his dick is being pressed tight by Dean's clenching ass, and Dean's cock is pulsing in his hands, spurt after spurt of warm come shooting out of him. Cas feels it against his own belly as well, and he's coming inside Dean, hard and intense, and when he's finished, he thinks he might pass out.

He doesn't though, but only because he hears the door to his cabin open, the rusty hinges creaking as the heavy wood is swung. He drops heavily down against Dean, takes a breath and kisses him on the chest before turning his head, looking to the doorway to find out who it is, and what they want.

The door is still swinging slightly, and through the low light in his cabin Cas can make out Dean, standing tall and hard, just outside the frame. He looks stunned, and more than that, hurt. Nobody else would notice, but Cas, and Dean, they do. They know him.

Cas wants to be happy. He feels like shit for it, but he does. He can't though, because he can't stand to see Dean hurt, in any way, no matter how completely ridiculous this whole situation is. He wants to be happy, but instead he grits his teeth and holds past Dean tighter, and looks at his leader, eyes challenging, daring.

'This should be you,' he says without words, and he will do anything if _his_ Dean will agree with him. Will push everything else aside and be with him again, give them both what they want. What will make them both happy.

But Dean won't let on that he wants it too. He just turns his hurt expression into a scowl, and looks away, as quickly as he can, eyes focussed on a knot of wood on the wall over Castiel's head.

"Get dressed," he manages, gruff and tight-lipped. "Both of you. Wheels up in ten."

And then he's gone, the door still open and swinging only slightly in the night breeze.

"Is this…" Dean asks, coughing and fidgeting. He doesn't push Cas away though, doesn't squirm or freak out, or try to get the cock out of his ass. "Is this gonna mess things up between you… us…? Fuck, you know what I mean."

"I do," Cas assures him, and presses himself down against Dean, kisses him on the forehead, letting his lips linger for a ridiculously long time. "I'm not worried."

And he's not. Things are beyond messed up already between him and _his_ Dean, and even if they weren't, Cas knows, and Dean knows, that neither of them are going to live more than a few more hours.

Regrets, at this point, don't seem to be worth it.

And even if they were, Cas could never bring himself to regret this.

END


End file.
